


Selective Memory

by any_otp_will_do



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Amnesia, Other, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:06:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/any_otp_will_do/pseuds/any_otp_will_do
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One morning, Dan and Phil get up and soon realize they have no waking memory of their lives. They can't remember their names or any specific people. They are alone in a place that is obviously their own, but how will they get their memory back? Warning: this is a rather dark story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I should give one of my best friends, Linda ( silverbreaths on tumblr. beware, it's probably changed since the time I've written it down), the indirect credit for a good portion of this story. I would not have thought of it without of her odd little mind or her quirky prompt: One day Dan and Phil wake up and remember nothing. With a bit of talking over this point of "nothing" I tweaked the idea into one easily molded into… well…. this… I don't often do first-person narrations, however it seemed to work in this case. Enjoy

I came to the realization that I was awake slowly. I did not open my eyes, but let the sunlight streaming in from somewhere touch my eyelids and make my vision red. Something was different. My mind felt blissfully clear: crisp, blank, fresh as a new bank of snow. But why? Not only was something different, something was definitely wrong. It was an odd feeling, to know something was lost but not knowing what that something was. The missing thing in question was thought. Or more specifically: memory. Or maybe I was explaining this all wrong.

As my eyes adjusted to the light of the room, I found myself simply staring at a crack in the ceiling. Somewhere in the rumble of wakening I had turned over onto my back, one arm caught underneath my body. It wasn't terribly comfortable, yet I made no move to change my position. I had lost the desire to… anything. I simply stared at the dusty crack that ran from a corner in a slash over my bed. It could have been minutes or hours that I watched it. I don't know why I watched it the way I did, but watch I did. The crack did nothing.

After some time had passed, I looked down at my surroundings. This was really odd. I had no memory of these sheets, which were patterned with white and grey and black, but they felt familiar to me. To my right was a bedside table and beyond it was a small dresser with black drawers but a wood patterned surface. There were various objects on both: a light, a picture in a frame, a few stacks of books. He eyed the nearest one,  _by Delia Smith._  The name was familiar too.

This was all too weird. Like selective memory, I found myself trying to think of something that I definitely knew. I had no problem remembering math or how to speak (I muttered words aloud; getting my sleep softened tongue to adequately pronounce them before I was satisfied that speech wasn't an issue.) However, personal things like what I had for dinner last night, my favorite color, hell, even my name trickled through my mind freely. It was like water that slid through the cracks in my fingers, no matter how I tried to grasp it close to me.

_I should try to jog my memory by using things here. Perhaps I have some weird amnesia._

This was obviously the room I lived in. It was much too comfortable and too my liking, even if I don't remember making it that way, to be someone else's place. So I grabbed the corner of the plaid duvet, pulled it off of myself and stood up. It was the first good look I'd had at my body since I woke up and I peered good-naturedly downwards. Strange, to be relearning the body that I'd obviously had for a while. I ran my hands down my tanned arms distractedly, did a quick pat down to make sure all parts were there, and then walked across the room to where I instinctively thought the bathroom was.

I peered at the face in the mirror and began cataloguing features. Not long but not short brown hair, the fringe parted above his right eyebrow and swooped to the left. It was a bit mussed and curly from sleeping. I don't really like that… Both ears pierced, each sporting a black stud. I made connection with a pair of dark brown eyes.  _Those are my eyes._  Stepping back from the mirror I also traced my exposed skin. I wasn't wearing a shirt and a thin but not toned body was uncovered. Nothing abnormal, just a regular average guy. Good.

I probably should take a shower, but when you've forgotten basically everything about yourself, that tends to be the more pressing matter. Besides, I was hungry and the grumblings from my stomach wouldn't stay quiet for long. I padded out of my door and along the corridor, still a bit freaked out that I could find my way even though it was as if it were the first time I had ever seen these halls. I found a kitchen, complete with refrigerator, oven, dishwasher, and cupboards with plenty of cereal. As I searched for a bowl I thought about how weird it was that I could remember these appliances and utensils and different kinds of food but I couldn't even remember my name.

_Strange._

Bowl full of some cereal called Shreddies and milk poured; I set off on what proved to be a more difficult task. Apparently, organization is not my strong point because several drawers were full of random crap. It looked as if I had just shoved whatever was on the counter into the drawer and then tried to close it, despite the overflowing mass of miscellaneous objects. Eventually I found a spoon tucked under a bunch of already opened mail. I extracted my utensil, pulling the papers and envelopes haphazardly out of place, and then closed the drawer putting numerous creases on the spilling of paper. I shrugged and picked up my bowl, quickly deciding that I wanted to continue my exploration.

Bowl in one hand, spoon in the other, I walked through the hallway slurping cereal in a completely graceful way as I peeked into each room in turn. Kitchen/ dining room/ living room I already knew about. And my own room of course. There was a room with a wardrobe and a desk with keyboard and a laptop, head phones still connected. Another bathroom, a room with a bed that looked like it hadn't been touched in a while.  _Guest bedroom?_  The next door was closed.

Without qualms, I reached out and grasped the handle, turning it and swinging the door forward. In here was another bed, but this one was not tidy like the other. The clearly unmade sheets and duvet were strewn aimlessly in many directions. It looked like there were pillows under the sheets, or at least that's what I thought until they moved. There was something or someone in that bed. The bowl in my hand slipped through my fingers and crashed on the floor, causing milk to splatter up into my face and on the floor in a wide circle.

The resounding crash and shudder of the bowl coming to a standstill created enough sound to jolt the figure awake. I found myself looking into a pair of bright blue eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

As I looked at jet black hair, a fringe that mirrored mine and fair skin, I found myself unable to speak. Who was this? Did I know him? Perhaps he knew who I was and could tell me why I couldn't remember. I was just about to open my mouth when a voice rumbled out.

"Who are you?" My heart fell. Damn, he didn't know me. Then why was he here?

"I was hoping you could tell me." I said.

It took him a minute, but then: "Is it the same for you?" He said cryptically, squinting at me. "Can you not remember either?"

I shook my head. "No—wait, you mean, you can't—how is that possible?"

"I don't know… but I can't remember enough of my life to even start to try and put it together. Do you remember anything? Your name? Mine?"

Again I shook my head. Then I cocked my head at him. He was still squinting, as though he didn't trust me. He must have noticed that.

"Why can't I see you very clearly? D'you… You don't think I'm part blind, do you!?" He asked me, panicked.

"No, I'm pretty sure you would have remembered that part." I looked past his head to a bedside table that looked like it was made of sandalwood. "Glasses." I said, pointing.

"Oh," he said with a short laugh, reaching over for them, "Right. That's better than being blind."

I laughed too. "Yeah, just a bit."

"Oh my God, is this what seeing is like?" He said, half joking as he stared at his hands pretending to be amazed at their clarity. I looked down as I felt the spilled milk seeping through my sweatpants.

"I'm going to go find something to clean this up with, alright? I'll be back."

"How do you remember where to go?" He asked me.

"I don't… that's an interesting thing. I've learned the difference between knowing and remembering today. I don't remember this place. I mean, it's familiar, but I can't say I've seen it before in my memories. But I do know where to go, at least, my feet know. My body made a map of this place ages ago."

Late afternoon found me in an open room with tall widows that allowed copious amounts of sunlight in. I had settled into this room and decided to see if I remembered how to work the laptop, which I had found by my bedside table and brought with me. I wanted to try and figure out just what had happened to me and the other man and why it had happened to us both…

As if he had heard me thinking about him, he came into the room, tossing his hair out of his eyes with a flick of his head. "What're you up to?" he asked me.

"I wanted to see if I could find any amnesia cases that sounded like ours. Figure out why we can remember some things but not others. Like, can you remember any people? Your mum, your dad? Maybe a close friend?" He shook his head slowly and then stopped and his brow furrowed. His eyes screwed shut as he thought.

"I've gotten flashes, y'know, like a dream, so it's hard to remember what they were. I remember someone with dark brown hair… it's…. curly and really green eyes. And there's someone—" His hands went up and he pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes. "There's someone else, a guy who's got lighter, like chestnut brown hair and hazel eyes. A girl with long crazy curly blonde hair. And—" He was really pressing his hands hard into his head.

"Hey," I said softly, my long fingers wrapped around his thin pale wrist, "It's alright. It's not your fault that you can't remember, okay?" I pulled his hands down and looked at him closely. "It does no good to blame yourself for something you can't control." I gave him a half smile, in a questioning way as he rubbed his eyes softly and pushed his fringe out of his face.

"You have dimples." He said as he smiled back shyly, ducking his head as if he was embarrassed for saying it.

"Do I? Hmm." After a beat of quiet I turned to the laptop and opened it. "Well, better get started on this research."

 _Google is the best search engine._ I thought.  _Hm, okay, if that's what I think, then I'll trust me._  I smiled at my convoluted thoughts.

"Alright, so I was thinking we should look up different kinds of amnesia. Y'know, since we haven't forgotten everything." He nodded so I looked at the keyboard.

_Types of amnesia. Enter._

_**Results:** _

_**Amnesia- Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia.** _

_**Amnesia – Types | Medindia** _

_That one looks good._

I clicked it and started to shift through the medical mumbo jumbo. It boiled down to six options:

_Anterograde amnesia is when recent stuff isn't put into long term memory. So you can't remember what happened a few days ago, but it only affects events that happened after the accident- so that's not an option._

_Retrograde amnesia is when the patient can't remember stuff that happened before the amnesia set in. –Aha!—It's usually caused by disease or brain injury…. Blah blah blah, there is no known cure…._

_Dissociative amnesia is when the patient has witnessed some traumatic event and is having an identity crisis because they are trying not to get personally involved... not us…_

_Infantile amnesia: when a person can't recall memories from early childhood_

_Transient Global Amnesia (TGA) is when the patient remembers most things but is totally confused by all the people, the sounds and lights and stuff. Really traumatic… not relevant to our situation but interesting._

_Wernike-Korsakoff's psychosis is an amnesia brought on by chronic alcohol abuse…_

"The one that sounds the closest is Retrograde Amnesia. It's where you can't remember stuff that happened before the amnesia, and it's caused by some kind of injury or disease. The problem is there's no known cure yet…."

He yelped. "You mean we might never get our memory back? We might be stuck like this forever?"

"I dunno, I mean I'm no doctor. This isn't a full-on diagnosis or anything, this is just the internet."

"I know but… what if we can't be fixed?" He said in a small voice.

I looked over at him. "We can go to a doctor, get a consultation."

"He sighed. "Okay, but not today, right? It's too much for one day."

My stomach growled.

"Well that ruined the slightly sentimental film moment." He laughed and I joined him. "You do ore research, I'll make dinner."

_Retrograde amnesia. Enter_

_Results:_

I settled in and tried to make sense of all of the medical talk.

Dinner that night was an odd combination of breakfast and dinner foods. My roommate had burned some of the eggs he had been trying to scramble and just given up on the plain-breakfast idea. So he brought out leftover takeout food from the fridge and warmed that up as well. The counter was littered with eggs, toast, butter and jam paired with Pad Thai, General Tso's, vegetable stir-fry, and Beef Lo Mein.

"I've been thinking," He said as he set down a carton of rice, "Should we think of names for ourselves? I mean, if I want your attention, I can't just yell 'Hey you!' through the flat."

"Yeah, but what if our memories come back? Like, if we didn't choose our birth names, and then we got used to our after- amnesia names, it might cause some sort of identity crisis."

"Right, yeah you're right."

"What would you want your name to be? I mean, if you could choose?"

He thought about it a moment. "Striker." Then we both dissolved into laughter.

"Right, Striker, I'll clean up the kitchen since you cooked." I said.

"Okay, I'm going to get ready for bed." I looked at the clock.  _11:36. Bloody fuck, where did the time go?_

"Yeah, sure." I began gathering empty cartons and throwing them out, closing those that still had food and putting them back in the fridge. Then I began washed the remaining cutlery and a few plates and cups that were in the sink. I was wiping my hands on a towel when the clock struck 12:00.

Then I made my way back to my room, closed the door and got undressed. I didn't feel like taking a shower tonight. I walked to the dresser and looked in it for something to wear. I pulled out a baggy t-shirt and another pair of sweatpants, not really paying attention to what they said, and tugged them on. There was a soft knock on my door.

"Yeah?"

"Can I come in?"

"Sure." I said, smoothing the shirt down.

When he walked in, he had an anxious look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing… I just-" He looked as if he didn't really want to say what he was going to say. "Never mind, it's stupid."

"Just tell me."

"Do… d'you think I could stay in here tonight? I'm just really freaked out by all this and I don't want to be alone, it's weird. If you don't want to, it's fine, I'll go out in the living room instead, I just don't want to be so far away from you." He said this all in a rush and then waited with baited breath for my response.

"Yeah, sure. Why don't we both go out into the den, since I only have the one bed?"

He smiled gratefully at me and I grabbed my duvet and pulled it behind me. He had brought his own duvet and pillow to the hall, but left it outside my room in case I had said no. While he was gathering it, I walked to the room with the recliner and sofa. I sat down in the chair, pulled out the foot rest, and pushed the back into the reclining position. I looked around to find him settling into the couch.

I smiled at him, and he smiled back- as far as I could tell in the dim light, and settled down, falling asleep almost instantly.

It didn't last. I woke in the midst of the most excruciating migraine I'd ever had before.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I get started, I thought I would warn you all that I don't really think this piece is meant to be romantic. So if that's what you're here for, you might be disappointed. However, I hope that doesn't deter you from finishing the story. I'm pretty excited about where it's going and can't wait for your reactions. Warning, this next chapter may or may not be triggering. There are mentions of past self harm.

The pain was so bad that I gasped, which was a bad idea; the sound set the blood pounding though my head. I lurched to my feet as the throbbing sent a wave of nausea to my stomach, stumbling to the bathroom in the most graceful way possible with my hand clamped over my mouth and nose. I crashed noiselessly into the washroom, staggered into the basin a bit, and fell to my knees beside the toilet just in time. To put it nicely, I lost all of the break-dinner from last night.

I was a bit too preoccupied with heaving the contents of my stomach out through my esophagus to notice that someone had followed me to the bathroom. He came into the bathroom and turned on the light. Pain exploded through me once again and I groaned weakly.

"No… light…" And it flicked off again.

"Are you okay?" He half whispered.

I shook my head, but even that mild movement felt horrid. "No." I said again.

"What do you need? Can I get it for you?"

"I don't know… I just… need sleep…."

I lay down on the carpet and pressed my forehead to the floor, the tiles felt wonderfully cool against my fevered skin. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on something other than the pulse that I could feel in my temples. I clutched my arms into myself and curled slightly as I fell asleep.

The next time I woke up I was wrapped in a duvet with a pillow under my head to protect it from the hard linoleum. It was early morning, judging from the grey light of the house. There was a lanky frame by the bathtub, elbows on knees and head resting in hands. There was a water bottle that sat beside him as well as a little bowl with about an inch of water in the bottom.

"Hey," I croaked.

His head shot up at my hoarse voice and he handed me the bottle of water. "Hey back. How are you feeling?"

"Better." I said, taking the bottle and sucking down the contents greedily. "I had a migraine."

"Yeah, I worked that out sometime between 2:30 and 5:00."

"Sorry for waking you, I've never had a migraine before." I said apologetically.

"No problem, I'm just glad you're alive. I don't know how I would have dumped the body." He joked.

I laughed as I stretched, flinching away from the cold floor. When I rubbed my eyes I felt a damp cloth on my forehead. That was nice. I imagined this man, who I barely knew now but had known so well some other time, staying up with me for who knew how many hours, replacing a cloth and making sure I was comfortable.

I stiffly stood up, then grabbed his hand and helped him out of his cramped position as well.

"Oh God, my bum hurts. Sitting too long in one place…."

"Sorry-"

"Look, if I wanted to move I would have. It was my choice, alright? Now go take a shower while I make breakfast."

"I will, Captain Bossy." I laughed.

He left the room and I stretched, making a mental note that the bathroom floor isn't the best place to sleep. I headed back to my room, shedding my clothes as soon as the door closed. Once at my dresser and I searched through the drawers for a new shirt, trousers and pants. My hands fell upon a black shirt with a ring of light on the front, orange spotty pants, but no more sweatpants. Jeans would suck to put on right after a shower. So I recycled the pants I wore yesterday.

I avoided the mirror in the bathroom, deciding too much exposed skin might freak me out a bit. I'd check myself out when I had more nerve. With towel waiting, I stepped into the warm spray of water, sighing contentedly. Locating the array of body washes and shampoos and conditioners was easy, and I poured a small amount of mint shampoo into my hands and went to work on my hair. A similar scented conditioner followed.

Grabbing a wash cloth, I selected a tube of body wash. It was raspberry flavored, so I replaced it on the shelf, opting for a slightly manlier smell. Another bottle was labeled Phoenix. What does a phoenix smell like? Sulfur and ashes?

Shrugging, I squeezed some into the cloth and worked it into a lather, then began to wash up. I looked down for the first time and dropped the bottle of body gel in shock. It clattered away from me loudly, but I made no move to recapture it. I was staring transfixed at the scene below me. Numerous scars marred the golden flesh of my thighs, long and thin but dark.

A muffled voice called, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah!" I yelled distractedly, peering in horror at the web of lines that decorated my skin.

They went in several directions and many overlapped, indicating a long period of time where new cuts would be added. My mind raced wildly as I tried to remember making these marks, as I made a fruitless effort to recall a reason for them being there. Of course I came up empty, the amnesia not giving in the least; you would think an existential crisis would bring up some old memories.

But no-

Then it hit me.

The smell of blood, the tang it left in my mouth. The hot water poured over my back and legs, turning rusty as it slipped down into the rivulets that ran toward the drain. Flesh sang apart under a blade that I gripped carefully to keep it from slipping from my grasp, particularly under the onslaught from the showerhead.

A particularly long slash sent a pulse of satisfaction through me and I smiled with primal zeal as I wiped the blood away to peer at the depth, but the crimson liquid welled up again instantly.

I yanked my head out of the memory with a gasp and for a moment I was disoriented by the lack of blood. The only smell was mint, not the rusty scent I was expecting. I shook my head to try and clear it of the dark thoughts, but only succeeded in settling my wet fringe over my eyes. I blindly shut off the water and stumbled out of bath. My feet slipped on the tiles and I threw out my hands to catch myself on the sink. With my fingers gripping the basin I looked up into the mirror and thought how fucking cliché of a movie moment is this?

I stared at my scared eyes and tried to calm the shaking in my limbs. It didn't really work, so I sat down on the toilet lid and stared down at my legs. The scars stared back. I remembered them but at the same time I couldn't remember at all. This is bullshit! Why can't this just end?! My hand rose tentatively and I brought my fingers to my leg. The furrowed tissue rippled under tanned digits, and I bit back a wave of terror. Years of abuse had been wreaked on my flesh, the criss-crossing tracks clearly old. They tingled where I touched them.

"Hey! Breakfast is ready!" The call snapped me out of my reverie and I nearly slid to the floor. I hurriedly dried myself off, stepping into my clean clothes with damp skin. I brought the towel with me, rubbing my hair as I walked to the kitchen. Act normal, Jesus. I turned the corner to see him eating a bunch of scrambled eggs and some toast.

"We're going to need to go buy more eggs if we keep going through them this way… and probably bread." He said.

I laughed, a bit nervous as I adjusted my trousers, but was careful not to betray my anxiety. "Yeah? D'you think we have any money here? I mean, we could go out to a shop, get the essentials."

"Right, I don't know about money… I mean, I hope we don't have to starve to death. That would be… unfortunate." I laughed again as I grabbed my own plate of eggs, which were not burned. Thankfully.

"I found out how to work the coffee maker, so I made you some. It's probably a bit cold now though…"

I took a sip of the java drink, and it and shuddered internally. It wasn't the cold that bothered me, I apparently don't like coffee black. I stirred in some cream and tasted it, then added sugar for good measure until I was happy with it. "You want some?"

He shook his head. "I prefer tea in the morning. And I like it with two lumps of sugar. I'm learning a lot this morning."

"That's good; at least some things are starting to come back to you." I said, taking another swig of chilled coffee.

"What about you, have you stared remembering anything yet?" He asked me.

I nearly choked on my drink. "Uh, just bits and pieces really, nothing special." Except for the fact that used to drag a blade of some sort across my skin. But he doesn't need to know that.

His brow furrowed. "Hmm, I wonder why I'm remembering more than you. Perhaps we need something to trigger our memories?"

"Yeah… that sounds about right."

"Well," he said, pushing his chair back from the table, "I didn't get a whole lot of sleep last night, so I'm going to take a nap."

"Right, you don't have to be up now. Please, go back to sleep, I'll be quiet."

He settled down on the couch and snuggled under the blanket, pulling it all the way up to his chin like a young child. As I went about my business, cleaning the kitchen and generally washing up, I kept tabs on him, just looked over once in a while. He looked so small and vulnerable, curled up and defenseless on that sofa.

Done in the kitchen, I moved into the living room and closed the blinds. It wouldn't be like night, but darker was better for sleeping. In the dim light, shadows played over his face. I smiled and went to get my laptop, deciding to do more research because I had nothing else to do.

I settled in the recliner I was supposed to have slept in last night and got comfy. As I worked, I would keep checking on him. A little crease had formed between his brows and he seemed to be muttering something. As his murmurs grew louder, I set the computer aside and knelt next to him, laying a hand on his arm. When that did nothing I shook him a little bit.

He lashed out and his flailing limbs nearly hit me in the face. His voice had definitely escalated and with one final "No!" he lurched forward into a sitting position. He cowered with his face in his hands, leaning into the back of the sofa. I put my hands on his shoulders, doing my best to coax him in to full consciousness. I tried not to let my fear show on my face, tried not to let him see how this upset me. It wasn't easy.

"Hey, shh, it's alright. Just look at me, that's it. No need to be scared, shh, it's okay, it's okay. It was just a dream."

He looked at me with confusion in his eyes, then I saw something form in them. His fear and bewilderment subsided and he looked at me with a bit of clarity. "Dan?" he asked.

My mind reeled, "What did you say?"


	4. Chapter 4

"What did you call me?" I repeated, a bit more excitedly.

"Dan… your name is Dan, right?" He said it uncertainly, slowly as he peered at my face in the dim light. "Yes! Dan!"

I stared at him incredulously. "How do you know? How did you find that out?"

"I—I had a dream about it—a nightmare. Everything was disorienting, I was looking up, but my sight was blurry, and there was this pounding in my head. It was horribly loud; I could barely hear anything else. It took me so long to stand up, it wasn't a normal dream where everything skips around and I didn't know if I was dreaming, I couldn't tell."

He took a deep breath before continuing, "Once I'd gotten to my feet, I was just trying to get rid of the sound in my head, it was a drumming, song-like noise. Louder than anything, it was terrifying. There was one point where I was standing right by a whole bunch of chiming bells at a church, hoping that would cover the noise, but it just made my head hurt more. Then I was being chased, I dove into a river to escape, but the water was freezing! I couldn't breathe or anything and I knew that if I didn't get away soon, I would be killed."

I looked at him closely, he was paler than normal and his hands were shaking. He gulped air and spoke rapidly. "I finally clawed my way to the surface and attempted to fight the freezing stream so I could get to the bank of the river, but the current was so strong and I kept getting pulled under. I saw you calling to me—I don't know what you were saying—and I swam toward you, trying to get you to run—that's when I said your name- but you wouldn't leave. The last thing I remember is a gunshot and you falling down, partially in the water, your head under the surface."

I grabbed his shaking hands, "Hey, it's okay, it's not real. It was just a dream, okay? Just a dream, don't worry, it's over now." I did my best to console him. "Do you want some tea?" He was shivering, as if he had actually just swam in a freezing stream. I felt his forehead, to be sure he wasn't feverish; he wasn't.

"Y—yeah, tea sounds good." I got up and moved over to the kettle and checked for water. The contents sloshed, confirming there was enough water for at least one cup of tea. I started the heat and stood back a bit, looking for a mug and tea bags.

_So, my name is Dan. Huh, I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't Dan. I guess Dan is as good as any other name._

"Do you suppose we should start writing things down?" I called back to him. "I mean: the things we're learning, our dreams." The kettle began to whistle, I poured two mugs of steaming water, making him tea and myself cocoa. I took both with me into the living room.

I continued, "I think just having it written down will help us remember everything, maybe even trigger more memories. And maybe we'll start seeing patterns from yours to my recollections, things we wouldn't think important enough to share."

He nodded, "That's a good idea. That's a really good idea! That way, we won't miss anything important!" He took a sip of his tea and yelped, "Ow, my tongue!"

_Second day after waking up; this (not really quite) morning I woke up with a migraine. It was horrible, I don't know if I've ever had one before. I don't know if I have migraines often or if it's a side-effect of this whole amnesia thing. Anyway, we've decided to keep journals of our progression just in case some stupid crap happens again. Your welcome, future-me. Which reminds me! We, well he remembered your name today. Dan. I wonder if it's just Dan or if it's short for Daniel. Well, that's all for now I guess._

_Dan_

_P.S. we still don't know/remember my roommate's name. I'm hoping that by writing down dreams and such, we can unlock that information. Along with other things, of course._

_P.P.S. I am left handed._

"I think that's good enough." I said, putting down my pen and paper. "What do you have written down?" I looked over his shoulder at his paper.

_***(Things I remember) Dan's name, girl with really crazy blonde hair, boy with dark brown hair (curly) and green eyes. Guy with hazel eyes and lighter brown hair.** _

_*** (Things I've figured out) I like tea in the morning with sugar, I don't like bananas. I am apparently very good at burning my tongue on things that haven't cooled yet.** _

_*** This morning Dan had a migraine, around 1:30. I sat on the floor and watched over him, I don't really know why, I guess I want to protect him.** _

"Yours is better than mine." He said to me.

"Nah, just different. You think differently. Besides, you remember more."\

He shrugged. "So are we going to a shop today? We're running low on food."

"Right…" I looked around at the kitchen. We were currently sitting on the floor with our papers and pens, scratching out what we remember. "One of us should make a list of things we need and the other should look for money."

"Right. And are we going to get looked at today? I mean, seen by a doctor."

"Huh, I dunno. What do you think? I mean, we should be seen right away, but do you think they'll be suspicious? How many cases are there where two people get amnesia at the same time?"

He considered this. "Yeah, it is weird, but we might not get better any other way. I'll make the list, you look for money, and we can decide later, alright?"

"Alright, I'll start in my room, yeah? If I need to I'll go in yours."

I walked to my room scanning the furniture for a wallet of some sort. Although one didn't automatically stick out, I didn't really mind. I decided to use the opportunity to get a better idea of what Dan was like. I hadn't really paid much attention to the décor, so this was the best look I had had so far.

On the headboard of the bed, fairy lights were lined and carefully taped down. On the wall to the left of the bed was a large painting with red lights and a blue police box. _Hmm._  Underneath that were six squares, each with something different on them: Two pictures of me and him, one of simply us and one with two other boys. One drawing of me and one drawing of him, a llama and a lion.

_Did I draw these? They're quite good._

The dresser and the bedside table looked like a matching set; both had drawers that were painted black, but a surface that was a stained wood color. On top of the dresser was a light that was shaped like a bowl. Amber in color, it had a web of metal dividing the tawny glass into little pieces, giving the impression reminiscent of a stained glass window. The drawers each held a differing item of clothing, from top to bottom: socks and pants, undershirts and other bed wear, shirts, and trousers.

The bedside table had two parts to it, the drawer (which held many objects like tissues, nail clippers and a small flashlight) and a shelf which housed a small stack of books. On the top was a mass of black and I picked it up, wondering what it was. It felt flaky and old, but when I opened it up it was exactly what I was looking for. The wallet may have been as dry and flaky as a biscuit, but it had what we needed. I looked at the array of cards; a credit card, an oyster card, a few gift cards to Starbucks and other places. Sadly, I didn't think we'd be able to use the credit card, there would definitely be a password needed to use it.

_42 dollars. That should be enough, right? Yeah, that'll be fine._

"Dan?"

"Yeah?"

"I've got the list and I found my wallet. Did you find anything?" He asked.

"Yeah, I've got 42 dollars," I said as I came out of my room. "You?"

"37, which should be more than enough. We'll be fine."

"Are you ready to go then?" I asked, looking down to see if I was adequately dressed.

"Yeah, though you need shoes. And I need to mentally prepare myself a bit, I think. We can't split up once we're out there. This is going to be traumatic enough as it is."

I nodded in agreement. "I haven't seen any shoes yet. Have you?" He was nodding before I even finished.

"They're in the hallway by the door. It's this way." He showed me to a hallway where a door stood, dark and bit ominous. Beside it hung a plaque with keys hanging from little pegs. I grabbed one pair and he grabbed the other. Then I grabbed a pair of shoes and tried them on. They fit fine, but that didn't mean they were mine. He and I looked about the same foot size.

I stood and faced the door, took a breath before grasping the knob. He grabbed my arm.

"Do we really want to do this?" I could tell he was a bit scared, hell, I was freaked out too, but I pushed that aside and plastered a confident smile on my face.

"Yeah, I mean, we can't just starve in here. That's stupid. I can go myself if you want, you don't have to do this."

He shook his head stubbornly. "You're not going out there without me. You're not going alone. We are sticking together because this stupid thing happened to both of us. What I want to know is if we're going to the hospital or to a doctor or what?"

"I really think we should. We can't let this go unchecked. Something could be seriously wrong with us, and we wouldn't know. Like you said, we'll be there together, it can't be that bad as long as we stick together."

I turned away once again, gripped the handle and opened the door. A drizzle had started and we stared at the grey rain in disgust. The dim and foggy streets were eerily lit with street lights and the headlights of cars. He had a look of " _Do we have to?"_  on his face.

"Come on, it's not going to get much better than this. We wouldn't normally let rain stop us, right?" I selected two umbrellas from a stand, fisted his jacket in my hand and pulled him with me into the rain.


	5. Chapter 5

I walked out of the door first, looking around and taking a deep breath. The air wasn't really fresh, we were in the city after all, but it smelled like rain and plants.  _It was a lovely scent_ , I thought,  _very green and open._ I took another few steps outside and inhaled again, but the fresh smell was coupled by the scents of the city. I looked behind me at him. I took his hand and squeezed it briefly, flashing a smile. He returned it hesitantly, but held his hand out to catch the rain drops in his long pale fingers. He shivered as the cold droplets clung to his flesh then he laughed nervously. I dropped his other hand as we began to walk toward the bustling heart of the district.

Yet again, I seemed to know the way easily without remembering any of the landmarks. I looked around at the unfamiliar shops and vendors, taking in smells and sounds that I only knew in the deepest recesses of my mind. I slowed my strides so as to take in the sights as much as possible. It was late evening and the lights were just turning on now, a whole spectrum of lights stretching down the block. The air was brisk, the rain chilling on their skin, the neon lights only added to the heady sensation of being outside in who know how long. Every deep breath chased the cold air into my lungs, the slight pain bringing everything into focus.

I looked at him; he looked just as exhilarated as I did. I threw back my head and let out a laugh. We began to run. There did not seem to be a signal, we simply broke out together, racing each other down the street, laughing the whole way. Feet slapped concrete, hearts pounded against ribcages, breath came fast and harsh. Water splashed around our ankles and knees, soaking into our trousers. We did not care and we did not slow until we reached the end of the pavement.

Bent over with hands on knees and panting like dogs, our wheezy giggles still squeezed through our teeth. We were giddy. With smiles in our eyes we kept walking, taking a route only our bodies remembered, breaths loud in our ears. I looked around at the people around us, searching for a familiar face. A man with black hair and stubble was sitting at a café table drinking a coffee and reading a book. An older brunette with her hair in a tight bun looked at us with distaste as she guided a small girl of four or five with blonde ringlets and a pink umbrella away from us. What looked a homeless man was sleeping in the doorway of a closed shop. His shaggy hair could've been any color, but I couldn't tell.

None of these looked familiar to me. I turned to him. "Did you recognize any of them?"

"No… you?"

"No." He looked troubled. "What's wrong?"

"What's with the way that woman was looking at us? Like we were going to molest her child or something."

"You're right, she did look like someone spit in her cereal. Don't worry about her, we weren't doing anything wrong. We were just having fun."

"Yeah, you're right." We kept walking, but he still had an uneasy look in his eyes.

We made a turn onto a large street and spotted the shop called Tesco. I pointed it out, and we made our way toward it. The doors slid open to reveal aisles upon aisles. I looked at him to see the same look of shock on his face I knew was on mine. I gulped as I looked forward again and I put a tentative foot forward. He grasped my arm tightly. The tight grip brought me back to reality and I kicked myself mentally.  _This is just a shop, no matter how big it is. We've probably been to stores tons of times, and plenty of times alone. This will be no different._

I turned to him, about to give him the same speech I gave myself in my head, but his hands had slackened and he seemed ready to go himself. "I'm fine." He said. "We might not know anybody, we might not remember anything, this might be totally freaky, but this is still just a shop."

I looked at him with a little surprise but mostly pride. He didn't need me to help him all the time. He could do this himself.

"List?" He handed it to me. We went forth like hunters stalking their prey, but really a lot more like two awkward amnesia patients who don't know what they're doing.

I might have guessed an hour and a half later, but I wasn't sure, we were done. We had cereal, eggs, bread, ketchup, jam, crumpets, mixed vegetables, rice, carrots, chocolate, and milk. It might have taken much less time if we hadn't gotten lost so many times. Apparently the feet-remembering-everything doesn't apply to shopping. We came to the checkout line slightly slumped over our cart.

"Next." A pleasant voice called.

We pushed the cart up to the clerk. She was a girl who looked to be in her twenties. She had green eyes and jet black hair that was pulled back in a neat ponytail. Her lips pulled back in a smile to reveal perfect teeth. She was very pretty, in an intimidating way.

"Hello." She said brightly. "My name is Tiffany."

"Dan." I said. She looked at him expectantly, but he looked at me a little nervously. He obviously didn't know what to say. To cover up the awkward pause I quickly said, "Uh, my brother's a bit shy."

"Your brother?" She preened. "Well, you certainly don't look much alike. Anyway, did you find everything alright?"

"Uh, yeah." I said, a bit nonplussed.

"Good! Our number one concern is customer service." She began to slide the items over the scanner. "I ask because you both look a bit exhausted. Did you find any employees who were of service?"

I shared a look with the black haired boy. There had been plenty of helpful employees, and almost all of them had been really friendly, but this cashier was being a bit over the top. "Yeah, we found our way fine enough, thanks."

She flashed me another smile. "Fantastic." She looked at the screen of her computer. "The total will be—hold on" she swiped a card and punched in a code. "There. Your total is 39.53."

As I shuffled with the money, she scribbled something on the back of the receipt. I handed her 40 pounds and when she gave me the change and the receipt, she batted her eyelashes. "Call me sometime."

"Uh… sure." I said, not quite sure how to react. Beside me, he snickered. I elbowed him in the ribs. I grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him to the door.

"Thanks for the help."

"What was I supposed to say?" He laughed. "As your  _brother,_ I should be happy for you."

"Hey, I was proud of that, with you not knowing your name and all."

"It might have been passable if we looked more similar. We look nothing like each other."

"Okay," I admitted, "but I wasn't ready, it was the first thing I thought of. Did you get the groceries?"

"Got it." He pulled the cart forward to show me. We grabbed the bags together and headed back home. We kept an eye on different people and talked about the things we saw. The buildings that triggered memories or ideas, people who looked familiar but not like we actually knew them, and eventually the conversation turned to what we think our parents were like.

"I think my dad was a big man, maybe with black hair like me. And my mum would have had brown hair and pale skin. I dunno who would've had the blue eyes. I suppose my dad. I can imagine that."

I fumbled in my pocket for the keys to the door. They rattled as I dropped them to the floor. Apparently unlocking a door isn't easy when you've got three plastic bags in your hands. He picked them up and worked the door open himself. I grinned sheepishly at his back, following him into the flat.

We unloaded and put away each of the items, chatting amiably as we did. As I put the last groceries in the fridge, he jumped up on the counter. He picked up an apple and flicked it between his fingers. Then promptly dropped it. I picked it up and tossed it back to him.

"So," he said, with a chagrined expression, "D'you think we should go to a doctor?"

I looked up at him and saw the nervous look in his eyes, "Yeah," I sighed. "I really do. I know you're anxious. Hell, I'm scared myself." It wasn't a lie. I was plenty freaked out. Freaked out about most likely getting stuck with needles, freaked about getting separated from him, freaked about getting bad news. "But we really need to figure out what's wrong and if we can get treatment. Or benefits. You realize we may not have jobs. We're going to run out of money eventually."

He was nodding. "I know. I'm just—scared." He said it in a quiet voice, ashamed.

"Me too."

He looked up at me and nodded once more, jaw stiffening. "Let's do this."

We were walking to a hospital. That's what the in-mind commentary told me. My body knew the route which told me I was most likely accident or illness prone. Or he was. Either way, finding the building was no problem. It was huge. White and pristine, the doors were high tech and a few silhouettes made their way inside. We followed quickly. A large desk sat at the entrance with several men and women in scrubs checking in patients. I stepped up confidently.

"Names." A man stated gruffly. He was a larger man with thinning red hair that had completely departed from the top of his head. The shiny patch was about the size of an egg. He cleared his throat impatiently when I did not answer.

"Oh, right. Uhm, Dan."

"Last name?"

"Uh… I don't know." I said awkwardly.

He scoffed at me. "Look kid, we don't have time for this crap."

"No, really! I have some kind of amnesia I think. I really don't remember, please sir."

The man snorted. "Alright. Take a seat, just-Dan. Someone will come get you." We made to go sit down. "Hey! What about your friend here?"

"Oh, that's my br—flat-mate. He's the closest thing I have to family right now."

"Hmph." Was all the man said.

We took our seats quickly before he called us back. I was really hoping he wouldn't catch the fact that my roommate should know my last name. He turned to me with brow furrowed. "Why didn't you say anything about me having amnesia too?"

"You saw the way he looked at me when I said I have amnesia. He thought I was joking, imagine how suspicious he would be if we said we both had it. He'd throw us out. We need to get to an actual doctor before we let that particular detail out."

"Dan?" A male's voice called out, thankfully not the voice of the man who checked us in. We stood up and walked over to a younger man with blond hair and gleaming blue eyes. He held out his hand. "Hello, I'm Dr. Cable. This way."

He guided us to a back room where he took my height and weight down. Then he asked me to sit on the examination table where he took all of my vitals.

"So!" He said, sitting in the rolling stool. "Dan, tell me, when was it that you woke up and couldn't remember anything?"

"Yesterday."  _Oh god, was it yesterday?_

"And, what did you do to help him, mister—?" Dr. Cable said, turning to him.

"Erm.. well…" He fumbled for words.

"See, that's the glitch." I interjected. "I wasn't the only one who woke up lacking memory. So did he. We still don't even know his name, he only remembered mine through a dream—"

Dr. Cable stood up so abruptly the chair rolled backward. The black-haired boy jumped. "We're telling the truth, we swear!"

"Oh, I know." The doctor quipped. "You boys stay here. I need to confer with some associates of mine." His bright eyes gleamed brighter. He left the room quickly, his lab coat billowing behind him.

I gulped. "I don't like this. That was too weird. Do you think he's getting the police or something?"

"I dunno," he said nervously. "I don't think we should stay. Dan, I really think we should go."

We stood and I stuck my head out the door. "He's nowhere in sight. Let's go." We shuffled out and past the front desk. We were almost out the door when—

"What are you doing? Boys?! Get back here!" I turned to see Dr. Cable flanked by two men. He was pointing at us. "Stop them." He said to his 'associates.'

"Run!" I yelled. I grabbed his arm and pulled him with me. He stumbled a bit before getting his footing and running alongside me.

Hearing the men behind us added to our panic. Our bodies supplied us with a burst of speed. We ran for blocks, dodging around corners and into back alleys. The lights of the shops no longer looked cheerful. They blurred together until and made everything all the more disorienting. Then I stumbled. I fell, sliding along the pavement sickeningly. I could see my bloodied palms and knuckles.

"Come on!" I cried, pulling myself up. "Just a little more now, come on!" I knew I was lying to him. We were completely lost. I would never be able to find my way back when being followed at this pace. Besides, leading them back to the flat would just mean we would be cornered and they would know where we lived.

He got to his feet quickly and we resumed our escape. The sounds of men panting and shouting soon faded, but we did not stop running. We did not stop until we dodged into an alley and ran into a wall. Of course, unlike the movies, it wasn't in the "we-stopped-just-in-time" way. He ran smack into the wall, hitting his head hard. He crumpled to the ground and I yelped as I mashed my own hands into the wall. The stinging from the earlier fall became a burning sensation.

I ignored it, falling to his side, trying to wake him up. I slapped his cheeks lightly, doing everything I could to awaken him without bringing the attention of the men who had been chasing us. Really panicked now, I inspected his head. He had apparently been looking back when he ran into the wall because the sided of his face was scraped and blood matted one of his temples. I checked for a pulse and breath.

_At least he's alive._

I slid my hands underneath him to pick him up. Standing, I tried to get my bearings when another migraine hit me. I slowly sank to the ground, the boy still cradled in my arms, a hiss slid between my feet. I hit the ground and he tumbled out of my hands a bit. I howled as the pain ripped through my mind, this time bringing with it images and sounds.


	6. Chapter 6

_It's dark. The full moon shines high above, gleaming through the dead barren trees. I stared up at the pale embodiment of the night. Cold air filled my lungs, warming inside of my chest, exhaled in a puff of steam in front of my face. My nostrils flare, taking in the scents of a dormant forest. I moved quickly, my eyes soaking in the scene._

_**Searching.** _

_I was hunting, I was a powerful predator. Where was my prey? I stalked forward, placing my bare feet easily on the damp ground. The woods would aid me in my search. I moved silently, my prey would not. They were afraid, they would make mistakes. I am in my element. They are afraid._

_A snatch of cloth supplied me with a scent. Her scent. The scent of the one who betrayed me. My blood boiled and I wished to release a howl of rage, but I suppressed it. I need the quiet, it was my ally._

_The silence of the night was almost serene. I could imagine it in a different situation; one where I would meditate, uninterrupted by the thrill of the hunt._

_The crunch of a twig. My face snapped around towards the noise, keen eyes questing for the source of the noise. No matter how my head whipped about, my vision stayed clear. There was no blurring to be dealt with. I scented the air; it was not my prey. Just another animal, worthless, of no use to me. My head jilted around as I attempted to take in the scent of my quarry. She was injured, she would not get far. My partner had made sure of that. A broken leg does much to slow down even the best of us._

_My eyes darted around, alighting on various parts of the scene. I looked for signs of a body trudging through. I did not have much time. I was not the only one hunting. My eyes widened, pupils dilating, taking in as much information as possible. Searching this way was doing no good. I stopped my prowling and stood completely still in a small alcove of trees. I was well hidden._

_I pushed my hearing out as far as I could, sampling the air for scents and flavours. My skin prickled as I attempted to register even the smallest shivers from disturbances in the air. I heard the trickle of a river in the near distance, the rapid heartbeats of a rabbit, the quickened breath of a stag and his herd beyond the brush. And then—yes!_

_**The stifled panting of a human, nearly six feet tall. A grunt of pain. Female. Then her feet dragged across the ground, heading toward the river.** _

_I growled, low in my throat, a feral smile plastered itself on my face. No escape now. She would regret ever laying a hand on him. My partner. My brother before the brotherhood. Our bond was close, never to be broken by those who are new to the ordinance. We had been working together longer than the coterie had existed. How dare she—a baby to the organization—even dare to do what she did._

_I advanced stealthily, my breath rippled around my face. My feet planted on the ground in a way to make noise. How did I want to do this? Quickly? —no she must pay. With tact and a bit of planning I would be able to head her off, get my sweet revenge and be on my way before the company found either of us. She would most likely die from injury or the bitter cold._

_Snow had begun to fall, I covered my tracks as I went. There was no room to get sloppy, no room for mistakes. Every move I made was precise, no wasted effort. My blood sang with the primal urge to bay and leap forward in a hunting stride. I was closing in on my target. She was twenty strides away, I could see her hair whipping behind her, felt the vibrations of the foot that fell harder than the other. I inhaled, mentally matching the scents that I already knew were the same. There was no mistaking her._

_So, do I let her know there is no hope for her? I smirked and then snarled. Her head whipped around, dark tresses falling into her face. Her eyes reflected the moon, a panicked expression that played in the pale orb mirrored in her frightened features. She attempted to move faster but only succeeded in tumbling to the ground. The snow around her body began to melt from her body heat; she scrambled to get back to her feet. I leapt the last bit of distance that kept me from her._

_When I landed, she let out an undignified squeak. She mashed her mouth together, looking frustrated with herself for allowing the weakness to show. Then she let a fake smile sweep her features. "Hello dearest. Come to kill me?" Her voice wavered so slightly, she probably didn't even realize it herself._

" _Not right away." I replied coolly._

" _Oh, you're going to take your bloody fucking time are you? You know that there are people looking for me. They'll be looking for you too."_

" _I never said I was going to take my time, I just said not right away. You're getting ahead of yourself dearest Kate." I looked into her cruel green eyes. There truly was no light in them. Soon there would be no life either. My fingers twitched involuntarily, itching to be around her pale little throat._

" _So what's on the agenda first, sweetie?" She purred. She wasn't good enough to hide the fear rippling through her body. An almost imperceptible shiver ran through her as I ran my fingers down her cheek._

" _I wanted to know if you know why I'm after you."_

" _Of course I know! You want to run away with your stupid lover!" She spat the words at him. I could feel the loathing seeping out through her pores. "You're running away with him and leaving the rest of us to fend for ourselves!"_

_I quirked an eyebrow at her. "Do you really believe that we're lovers? Or is that your mind making up an excuse because you can't come up with another reason for me turning you down?"_

" _Bastard!"_

" _And," I said, the growl building in my chest again. "Is that why you threatened him? We have been working together since before you even knew our company existed. Before you knew what we did in the modern world. We've been best friends since youth. We're inseparable. I don't have to be in love with him to be murderous when I discover the threats and blackmail you employed on him."_

" _I didn't know how else to keep you from leaving." She bit out at him. "How do you expect us to get along without you?"_

" _You and the superiors got yourself into this mess without us, you can get out of it by yourselves just as well. You know that neither of us approved of your twisted ideas."_

" _So if we die, you're not going to care?"_

" _Of course I'll care, I do care." My brow furrowed as I looked at her. "Don't ever believe that I don't care, Kate. I'm not, however, going to put my life on the line for an idea I never support."_

" _You stupid fucking bitch! They weren't important people, why do they matter? In the grand scheme of things? Their deaths were simply for the greater good! They didn't go to waste; they helped us a great deal!"_

_I shook my head. Sometimes this bitch was an absolute idiot. She has no concept of right and wrong anymore. I've seen it coming for a long time. The entire brotherhood has been turning in a dark direction. Cutting up innocent people in hopes of finding improvements for those of us in the company. So that we can move faster, hear better, see farther. At first it was only a few prisoners that had been targets and were going to die anyway. Then the elders had set an attack on an entire village. I had not taken part. I disapproved heartily._

" _You don't understand!" She implored, attempting to sit up. I pinned her down by the shoulders. She tried again. "They were not special people, and now look at what the clan can do! Look how strong we are!"_

" _No, you don't understand!" I spit the words back at her. "They were people! They had lives, families, lovers! We didn't need it! We don't need to be any stronger or faster than we are now. We didn't have to kill them, but we did."_

" _We take our inspiration from our wolf brethren—"_

" _Wolves never kill when it's unnecessary. They don't kill an entire village to test and make technology. Wolves do only what they need to. That's what you and your company should be doing."_

" _My company? So you're definitely going to leave then? You're leaving in protest because we don't properly act like wolves?"_

" _I'm leaving because I can't abide the elders making these decrees and you and the others just following mindlessly because you're 'obligated.'"_

" _We follow because we're pack!"_

" _No, you follow because you've become zombies to the superiors' wishes. You move at their beck and call, no protest. And you're not a pack, they're not alphas! You're humans. Act like it."_

_She curled away from the venom in my words. "We're not humane enough? But you're going to kill me. Isn't that inhumane?"_

_I laughed at her weak attempt to dissuade me. She knew as well as I that it was a fruitless attempt. "I'm killing you in a hope to show the superiors that I am serious, that I am willing to fight for my freedom, and that they need to start thinking back to the original foundation of our company. I would've liked you quite a bit more if you weren't a bitch. Oh well, c'est la vie."_

_I drew back my hand, I knew the iron "claws" were glinting evilly in the pale moonlight. Inwardly, my wolf urged me to make the kill quickly and to feast on her blood. I pushed the howling creature down with a shudder._

" _Wouldn't you give me a kiss before I go?" She whispered it in a small voice that said she already knew my answer, but she would try anyway._

_I hooked my hand into her hair, dragging down until they drifted behind her left ear. Her breathing hitched as I leaned a bit closer. Our breaths made a collective cloud of steam. Her green eyes searched mine, obviously seeing the cold resolve in them._

" _N—"_

_The quick movement of my wrist cut off the sound of her protest. My metal clad fingers left three deep gouges in her neck, running from behind her ear to her clavicle. Her lips moved violently, but a gurgling sound was all that was head._

_I could hear them approaching._

" _Good-bye Kate."_

_I ran out of the forest, I ran for the river. I would jump in there; rid my body of incriminating scents. It would work for only a short amount of time, but it would be long enough._

_That was when the sounds of his struggle met my ears. I cantered to the sound, yelling his name._

" _Phil!"_

_He was struggling in the water. A strong current kept pulling him under. He spat our water and would be dragged into another mouthful moments later. His eyes widened, peering at something beyond me. Before I could turn around, I heard the resounding shot and a sickening pain ran through my chest. I looked down and could see crimson liquid blooming across my clothes._

" _Phil…" I muttered as I plummeted to me knees and fell, face first, into the water._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys all enjoyed the last chapter. I also hope you worked out the fact that the "brotherhood" is made of people who use technology to advance their abilities. They wear iron finger extensions with claws and some other things that will be explained in more detail in later chapters. They are not werewolves. I repeat. NOT WEREWOLVES. That's not where I want this story to go. I can't see either Phil or Dan as any kind of mythical creature. It's not for me. But Dan doesn't necessarily know that.

My waking inhalation brought water into my lungs, not oxygen. It seems I had pitched face first onto the ground, nose and mouth edging into a growing puddle. The moisture burned its way through my chest and I my lungs contracted with the need to evict the unwanted fluid. I coughed violently and lurched onto my knees, head whipping back and forth as I tried to get my bearing. The sky had opened up and let forth a torrential downpour that was quickly soaking me to the bone. And Phil—

_Phil!_

Was that actually his name? Was it just that memory—no hallucination. I wasn't some creepy werewolf thing. I didn't kill anyone… right?

_No. I am right. I'm not going to doubt myself. I had just had another weird vivid dream. That's perfectly normal for average human beings to have._

Of course, I ignored the fact that Phil had also had a vivid dream that matched the ending of mine.— _No, I was simply feeding off of the information I got from him. It inspired my own dreams. That's all. Now, we need to get home._

I didn't know how long I had been lying there, doubled over with my face pressed into the pavement, but I no longer heard the sounds of people searching for us. We really needed to get back to shelter; we needed the stability of our warm home the safety of—well not being out in the open where anyone could see us.

"Phil." I said, crouching by his head and tapping him to wake him up. "Phil! We need to go, now." I poked him and prodded him, but he was having difficulty waking up. His breathing was shallow, and his eyes rolled behind their lids, but they did not open. "Please, we need to go!"

"What did you call me?" He muttered weakly, his words slurring together. I had to hold my head close to understand him.

"Phil. I called you Phil; that's your name."

"It is?" His eyes prized apart and he looked up at me deliriously. Then he snickered. "Dan, there are two of you…" he giggled again.

"Right," I sighed. "Come on you, we've got to get going."

"Go where?" He asked, still chuckling like a small child. His hands lifted and water out of his eyes. "It's raining, Dan, look!" He held out his hand to catch water droplets. "Why does my head hurt?"

"You ran into a wall, knocked yourself out." I said, "Can you stand?"

"I don't know." He said with a sing-song voice. "Help me up."

I gave him my hand and he grasped it, using it to pull himself shakily to his knees. Which promptly buckled under him. He braced his other hand against the brick wall, and giggled like a drunk. His hand was wrapped in my shirt and as he slid down the surface of the wall, he pulled me down with him.

"Alright, fuck this." I said. "Come here." I pulled him over to me, using the wall for support as I lifted him into my arms. He wouldn't be able to walk for a while; this would just have to do. I had gotten a sense of how strong I was earlier, before the migraine had hit. I would be able to carry him like this for a while. I hoped.

I pushed my back into the wall and stood up, grunting a bit as I settled his weight in my arms. His head lolled backward and rain splashed on his face. He wrinkled his nose as droplets dripped into his nose. He moved his head to the side, away from me, so the water would roll down his cheeks instead of up his nostrils.

Once he had adjusted himself, I made my way to the edge of the alley. I peered out to make sure it was clear. The dim streets were practically deserted, with most stores closed, shoppers had gone home. The only ones left were the people in coffee shops working on laptops or avoiding the horrendous rain. Few of them noticed me as I shuffled across the streets. Good thing too, as it would be very difficult to explain the blunt force trauma injury on the head of the man I was currently carrying. I snorted at my situation, wishing that Phil was awake to share the humor with me. Just this morning he had complained about not knowing where to dump the body…

The rain had flattened my hair, weighing my fringe down so it landed in my eyes. Déjà vu. I shook my head to get it out of my sight, seeing as I didn't have use of my hands. The rain was blurring my vision as it stuck in my lashes and caught between my blinking lids. The stars in the sky ran together, as did the lights in shops around me. I blinked rapidly to dispel the liquid and restore my sight. It was really no use; the rain was blinding.

So I had to make do with stumbling down the pavement, half blind while carrying a semi-conscious young adult who was whimpering about the cold. And now that he mentioned it, I realized myself that it was cold. I didn't know what month it was or even the season. It wasn't terribly cold, but did we live in a place that got cold in the winter? I didn't know! It was frustrating.

"Phil?" I panted.

"Hmm?" He looked at me.

"Do you know where we live?"

"London?"

My brows knitted together. "How d'you know that?"

"Hospital." He mumbled before shutting his eyes and turning his face away from me.

_Of course. The name of the hospital could've had the name of the city. Idiot. Why didn't I think of that?_

My arms were starting to get tired, and I hopped to get more leverage and strength under Phil's limp form. He lay back like a rag doll and watched the shops pass by. Thinking it a good idea, I did the same. I'd been walking without direction; I needed to know I was going the right way. I'm relying too much on my ingrained sense of direction from my waking amnesia-less days.

There was a coffee shop that looked remotely familiar, and a shop called "Shaken Not Stirred" which looked like a milkshake place.  _I have to go there…_  We passed a game shop, a few cafés, a music store, and three more coffee shops before I was sure where I was. By this time my limbs were burning and I panted from the exertion. I pressed my back to a wall and lifted a knee to support Phil's body so I could rouse him.

"Phil. You really need to get up now. Come one, we're not far from home." I coaxed.

_He better hurry the fuck up before I accidentally drop him on the concrete._

"Alright, come on now," I said as I set his feet down on the ground. I held him up as unfurled his arms and stood up fully. "That's it, thank you." I sighed with relief and stretched, feeling the delicious ache of blood rushing to where it had been sorely missed.

I tugged his arm, "This way, follow me. I know where we're going. We need to be quick; we're going to get sick from being out in this freezing rain."

He groaned as he followed me like a puppy. I smirked a bit, guiding him through the puddles that would lead us home. There were only a few blocks to travel and we passed them by without incident. As we neared the door to the flat, I pulled my keys from my pocket. It was a difficult task, seeing as my clothes had adhered themselves to my skin. Once I'd extricated them, I unlocked the door to let us both in. Phil was falling asleep against the door frame.

"It's open." I said softly. He tripped his way inside and we huddled gratefully in the warmth. Neither of us gave any fucks about dripping on the floor. I pulled my feet out of soaked shoes and tossed them each down with a splat. Phil copied my movements with less enthusiasm.

"I'm going to take a hot shower." He said.

"Erm, d'you want me to clean that head wound of yours first?"

"Er, yeah, that'd probably be good." He said, ruffling his hair. "I have a first aid kit in my bathroom, want me to get it?"

"Nah, I'll get it. And I'll get you a towel too." I walked into my bathroom first, grabbing a towel for him and quickly rubbing myself down and peeling the top layer off of my body. The clothes underneath it were clinging to my skin at worst, and damp at best. I didn't even try to change my trousers. I exited my room when finished, tossed him his towel, and headed to his room.

His bathroom was a bit smaller than mine, with mirrors that hid shelves behind them. I opened the cabinets, searching for the first aid kit Phil told me about. I grabbed it and headed out of the bathroom, but not before I noticed the box of tissues and snatched them too. I padded back to wear Phil was sat at the kitchen table, drumming his fingers against it's wooden surface. I spread my arms to show him what I brought.

"Bring it on." He challenged with bravado. I laughed as I tilted his head back and looked at the wound. The rain had washed away most of the blood, allowing me to see that the cut was shallow. Most likely his skin had just split from high velocity impact. To be safe, I swabbed the area with isopropyl and swiped the abrasions on his face as well. He winced a little, but was relatively still otherwise.

"Uhm, I don't know if you should wash your hair until it heals a bit more. I mean, I don't think it'll do damage, but it would probably sting." I advised him.

He nodded. "I thought as much. I just want to sit in the hot water and warm up."

"D'you want some tea or cocoa?"

"Cocoa sounds lovely." He smiled at me before shuffling off to his bedroom. I set the kettle to boil and put two mugs on the counter, filling one with mint and one with regular chocolate mix. I had discovered my own love of mint, but I had no idea if my roommate shared it.

Realizing that I was still in my wet clothes, I went to my room and pulled them off. My pants hit the floor with a sharp wet smack. I picked up the wet things, rung them out in the bathtub, and hung them to dry. I threw my damp shirt in the bin and was dismayed to find that even my pants had gotten wet. I removed them as well, putting on clean warm clothes, and sat at the table waiting for the kettle to whistle or for Phil to come out of the shower. Whichever came first.

I looked around the tidy kitchen and thought about the evening's events. Had we over reacted about the trouble at the hospital? Maybe that man had been trying to help us, and we were simply ungrateful about it. Sure he had brought two people with him and then sent them chasing after us, but they could have been colleagues that he wanted to collaborate with. Perhaps it was a long shot, but I wanted to believe that he was going to help us, even if it was totally justifiable to run away in that situation. I mean, they were pretty intimidating guys. I could still hear their feet pounding along behind us as we ran.

The kettle whistled and I picked it up, pouring into the mugs and stirring their contents. And what about the second migraine? I still don't know if it's because of the amnesia, but it's the second one I've had and it was worse… in a way. Leading to passing out and vivid dreams—yeah, it was worse. But what was I supposed to do about it? I didn't know how to take care of migraines other than aspirin or some other kind of pain reliever.

Then of course, that dream had been equally disturbing. He'd thought of himself as a hunter, he had felt the craving to kill that girl.  _Kate._ The name was familiar, perhaps I'd known her before the amnesia and my brain created an image of her. Perhaps I didn't like her and that's why I came up with the evil bit. I mulled it over until coming to the inevitable. I'd tried to avoid the subject of the end of the dream, but you can't avoid a topic of conversation when that conversation is with yourself. Having matching endings from different perspectives was a bit weird of course. But I don't really think it was anything particularly worrisome. Phil had a dream that he told me about, then I had a dream that was like it.

Besides, if it were a memory, I'd have a scar from getting shot. Right? I stood so quickly I nearly toppled over my chair. I rushed to my bathroom, lifting my shirt over my right shoulder so I could get a look. I turned around and peered behind me as I searched my skin for marks. I had gotten hit below my right shoulder blade in my dream, but hard as I looked with my eyes, no corresponding blemish did I find. I twisted my arm behind to try to feel for a bump that perhaps my eyes could not see. My questing fingers found nothing.

I sighed with relief.  _Not a memory, just a dream. Just a weirdly vivid and creepily coincidental dream. Or nightmare, I guess._

Content with what I'd found, or, more accurately, what I had not found, I went back to the kitchen to find Phil sitting there holding his mug of cocoa.

"Did you get the one with mint or without?" I asked.

"The first one smelled like mint, so I left it alone. I assumed you made it for yourself." He informed me.

"Right. If you want mint, I can do that instead."

"No, this is good."

"Look, about tonight: I think we might have over-reacted. We don't know what Dr. Cable was going to do, we don't know that he wasn't going to just come back and help us."

"I was thinking about it, but I'm not sure. You could be right, but he didn't need to send his big hulking assistants after us. They followed us for at least five blocks. That's not normal doctor behavior."

My teeth worried my lip. "You're probably right."

"Probably? I'm the most rightest person in the whole world ever!" He laughed at himself.

We spent the rest of the evening talking about other things, trying to get the night's activities out of our heads. We chatted over our cocoa until it was cool enough to drink. When it was finished we headed to our individual rooms and fell asleep rather quickly. Running had worn us both out, and my bed welcomed me with open cushions when I sank into it that night.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning I awoke to the phone. I looked over to where an alarm clock was perched on my dresser. I had moved it in here so I didn't have to go wandering the house to figure out the time.  _It was 1:36... Damn, I sleep late._ I turned over and put the pillow over my head, hoping to block out the noise, and then I froze.  _The phone is ringing. The phone is ringing!_ I jumped out of bed and raced to the source of the noise, elation flooding through me.  _Someone was calling us and whoever it was would know us and be able to give us information on our lives!_

"Phil?" I called as I skidded into the living room, "Phil! Someone is calling us!"

"I know!" He cried, already staring at the phone. "What do I do?" He said in a panicked voice.

"Pick it up!" I laughed.

 _Click._ The phone stopped ringing. I frowned. Then my voice came up on the machine.  _Hi, it's Dan and Phil. Apparently, we're not available because we're so busy with our amazing lives._ A laugh was heard in the background. Then Phil spoke.  _Yeah, we've got a lot of breathing to do and Guild Wars to play._ My voice came back on.  _Exactly. Leave a message at the beep._

The tone sounded and a new voice sounded through the room. It was dark and ominous.

" _Hello Dan and Phil. Yes, it's me and yes, I've found this information. I know what's happened and I'm coming to get you."_

I looked at Phil with fear in my eyes; he looked back just as scared. Then we heard a laugh. And the message continued.

"Hey, it's PJ. I haven't heard from you guys in a few days, which is odd. No videos or anything. I was just wondering if you guys were alright. Chris and I were planning on hanging out and filming a video today, we were thinking you could join us. Anyway—"

As the man sounded about ready to hang up, my hand darted to the phone. I needed to make sure we could talk to them and if he hung up, we'd have no way of calling back.

"Hello?" I said tentatively.

"Hey Dan. Did you hear most of that?"

"All of it actually." Phil came over and pressed his ear to the other side of the receiver, hoping to pick up the side of the conversation he was missing.

"Good! How about you meet us… hmm…"

"Actually, we need to do us a favor." I said this with some trepidation.

"And what's that?" PJ said.

"Do you think we could do it here? The video, I mean."

"Uh, sure. Chris and I will be up soon. Don't know what traffic's like. You know, with Christmas coming up and all."

My eyes widened and beside me Phil jumped with excitement. I tried not to let my surprise leak into my voice. "Right, of course." I said. "We'll see you when you get here."

"Alright, see you then!" He said brightly before a beep announced the disconnection of their lines.

"It's nearly Christmas?" Phil whispered to me, "Nearly Christmas! We need baubles and tinsel and a tree. Oh, and Christmas music and presents." He stopped jumping up and down and looked at me gravely. "Dan. I need to know what day it is right now. How long is it until Christmas? What if we don't have presents for anyone?!"

"Phil, calm down. No one's going to blame us for not remembering Christmas, we have  _amnesia."_  I said, bemused.

"That means nothing." He pouted at me, "We still need presents for people. It's Christmas…"

I smiled as I shook my head. "Alright, while we're waiting for them to show up, why don't we look for boxes of Christmas stuff? Maybe the presents will be there."

Half an hour later we were standing at a closet, hauling bins of tinsel and lights into the hallway. Each bin was clear with a red lid, with a label of what was inside written on tape on the top.  _Tinsel, baubles, and fairy lights. Christmas mugs._ And  _wrapping utensils_ all unloaded into the hallway. A large box contained a fake tree. Empty boxes were in a pile in the back, a few presents were stacked in the front. Each present was wrapped and labeled.  _That was a relief,_ I thought.

"Dan?"

"Hm?"

"Why do you think it took us so long to put up the decorations? I mean, why do you think we've got presents but not any of the ornaments or the tree?"

"I dunno, Phil. Maybe we bought the presents in advance. "

He didn't look convinced but didn't press the matter. He simply dragged the box with the fake tree into the living room and looked for a place for it to go. I followed him.

"Help me put it together?"

I nodded.

And so, about an hour later, we were sat on the floor and thoroughly pissed off at the directions. I turned the diagram a few times, hoping it would give me a better idea of what I was trying to do.  _Pole A goes into Slot B. Why doesn't Pole A go into Slot A? And why aren't the slots labeled? And why did they use the world slot?_

"You know," I said, looking at the half constructed tree, "I'm not sure this is any easier than getting a real tree."

"Yeah, but we can't stop now. I just wish they made the directions in 3D. Trying to put a 2D diagram into a 3D concept is hard." He crumpled his nose in frustration. "Maybe PJ and Chris will have an easier time with it? They could help us."

This was the first time the subject of their visitors came up since we started. "What are we going to say to them?" I asked. "They're probably going to want to know why we haven't put up our Christmas stuff yet."

"I guess we could just tell them the truth. We need their help putting our memory back together. Besides, they're our friends, we shouldn't keep something the big from them. We're going to have to tell people eventually."

"Right."

There was a knock at the door.

"I guess that's them." Phil said. "Answer with me?"

I got to me feet and followed him to the door. It opened to reveal two smiling guys, each taller than us by a few inches. Phil stifled a gasp as he stared into the face of a man with curly hair and green eyes. He pulled Phil into a hug and then gave me the same treatment. Over his shoulder I could see Chris giving Phil a hug. Chris had chestnut colored hair with laughing hazel eyes.

"I brought you some malteasers." The on hugging me said as he stood back. It was the voice from the phone.

"Erm, thanks PJ."

He gave me an odd look, but handed me a box and proceeded into the house. I was treated to a hug from who I assumed was Chris. Then Chris followed PJ. We tagged along like puppies. It was odd having someone else in the house.

"You guys haven't got your tree up yet?" Chris said, puzzled.

"We were having some… difficulties." Phil responded sheepishly.

"You want some help?" PJ offered.

"Yes please." I said. "Er, d'you juys want any tea, coffee, or cocoa?" I offered.

"Yeah!" Chris and PJ responded together, and then laughed. So did Phil and I.

"Coffee for me." Said PJ.

"Tea please." Chris requested.

I walked into the kitchen and filled the kettle. The clock on the stove said it was later than I realized. It was about 3:45. I pulled four mugs down from the cupboard, four spoons from a drawer, and spun toward the living room.

"What do you guys like in your coffee and tea?" I called. Again, PJ gave me a look before explaining that he liked one lump of sugar and Chris liked lots of milk but no sugar. Right before I turned around, I noticed Chris and PJ sharing a look.

The kettle whistled and I poured out the drinks, bringing out the one's for our visitors first and then coming back to hand Phil some tea. I sat on the floor gripping my own mug of cocoa and looked at the progress they had made on the tree. It looked a bit better, but there were still a few branch arms scattered on the floor.

PJ sighed and I looked up. He was rumpling his hair and was looking at his foot with an embarrassed expression on his face. "Look, I called because I was a bit worried, but now you've got me convinced something is wrong."

I didn't say anything and neither did Phil, so the curly headed guy carried on. "You haven't put up any new videos, tweeted, or texted or called either us in the last five days. You've been completely MIA. Dan, you completely forgot what Chris and like in our respective drinks even after how long we spent in the same hotel room in Italy. And you haven't touched the box of malteasers yet, and you fucking love those things. So what's going on?"

Chris, who was sitting next to him, nodded and looked at us expectantly. I stuttered as I tried to find words, but none came. I looked at Phil desperately, hoping he would save me from my floundering.

"You see… well, I don't know… you might not believe it."

PJ gave him a look that said  _Try me._

Phil looked back, took a deep breath and began explaining the whole sordid mess. I would interject my own details as he went along and together we watched as PJ and Chris looked more and more unnerved.

"This sounds like something out of a video game." Chris said when they shared the events of last night and the hospital. "You two should write a movie or something. So they chased after you? Oh wow, I can see the bruise now. I didn't notice it before."

PJ was looking at Phil's hairline intently. He looked a bit skeptical.

"You have to believe us PJ. We're not making this up. We're not liars."

"I'm not calling you a liar." He defended, "It's just… so weird. I just wonder what's going on. Who would chase after you guys just because you both have amnesia."

"You see… that might not be it. We keep having flashbacks and dreams of past events. But not all of them, at least I think, are things we would have done. I mean, I saw Dan get shot in one of them. I don't know what to make of most of them."

I nodded. I still hadn't told Phil about my... _dream._ And I wasn't really planning to.

"Well..." PJ pushed himself to his feet. "Let's go to dinner."

"What?" The three of us questioned.

"You want to just  _go to dinner_?" Phil asked.

"Yeah." He said, as if it was completely normal. Chris smirked at his nonchalance. PJ continued. "We're not going to figure this out today. We need to tell your parents, consult a doctor—a different one, obviously—and get your brains scanned. But we can't do all that tonight. Besides, we need to get you two back in the swing of normal life. So dinner, my treat." He smiled as he helped Chris to his feet.

Phil and I followed suit, standing, getting our coats and putting on shoes. We walked outside nervously, but trusted PJ. PJ bought us all drinks and we drank and had a wonderful meal at an obscure little pub a few blocks over.

I had learned quite a bit about Chris and PJ that night. PJ was incredibly creative and a little whacky. Chris was incredibly funny and made lots of crude jokes that were hilarious. He told us about his youtube career and then Phil's and mine. Needless to say, we were a bit shocked to find out about our large fanbase and extensive number of videos. We even watched one of them on PJ's phone. It was definitely an odd experience to watch yourself on screen, doing things you don't remember. After one video Phil had said he didn't want to watch anymore. I agreed, the oddness was a little nauseating.

Dinner was lovely and Chris and PJ ended up staying the night. I fell into my room after the night's events and smiled contentedly into my pillow.  _That was nice. I probably shouldn't have had that last cocktail, but that was really fun._

I kicked my shoes off and face planted into my bed. It was still a bit early, but I was apparently exhausted by the social aspect of the night. I curled up under my covers and fell asleep instantly.


	9. Chapter 9

When I awoke in the morning, I was cold. I went to reach for my duvet to tuck it more securely around me, but my hand was stuck. So I opened my eyes and peered at it. That's when I noticed the straps. Thick leather straps restrained my arms. I tugged at them, while trying to shake off the fuzzy haze of sleep, hoping this was a dream. My mind was clear, my hands were pinned. I tried shifting my feet, but it turned out they were held down too. I began to panic, my eyes searched the room, head turning on a hard surface attempting to get a better view. I was lying on something hard and cold.  _A gurney. Why am I on a gurney?_

I wrestled with the constraints, violently jerking my limbs against them. That's when I noticed Phil in a similar situation, strapped down to another gurney on the opposite side of the room.  _We were in my room…_

"Phil! Phil, wake up!" I hissed, trying to rouse him while trying not to draw attention to myself. "Phil! Get up!"

I tried scooting the gurney, knowing that they have wheels. Apparently whoever locked us up put the brake on.  _Fuck._

"Phil—"

I saw his eyes open slowly and he looked up at me. "What? I'm cold… why are you in a hospital bed?" He tried to push his hair out of his eyes, and discovered his own restraints. "What! Why am  _I_ strapped to a hospital bed?" His fearful eyes looked up at me. "Do we call for help?"

"I really don't think that's a good idea. I doubt whoever did this is gone. No one comes into a person's house and straps them up for shits and giggles."

A laugh resounded from the door. A girl walked in. "Really, Daniel, you are funny." Her jet black hair was in a ponytail, her lips revealed perfect teeth, and her green eyes laughed at us. "Remember me?"

My brow knitted as I recognized her. "Tiffany?"

Phil was just as shocked as I was. "The girl from the shop? The one who flirted with you? Is all this just because you weren't interested?"

"How did you find our house?" I cried indignantly.

"Oh, silly me. You still can't recognize me. Hold on."

She reached up to her hair line and tugged at her skin. It rippled; the waxy surface bunched up as her fingers slid underneath. She pulled it forward and her flesh stretched as it was stripped away from her face.

"Oh god, I'm going to be sick." Phil had clapped his hand over his mouth, his stomach visibly heaving. "Stop it! Just stop it." He whimpered into his hands.

I looked back, watching as she smirked. The way she was stretching did odd things to her mouth and the smug look warped as the flesh was removed from her face. It ripped in places, revealing that it was not skin at all. It was a mask; one that was so flawlessly it was undetectable. The wax was dragged from around her ears, even down her neck. The worn out material fell to the floor with a sickening smack. She reached into her mouth and pulled caps off of her teeth and spit them onto the floor as well. They were slightly pointed, and she bared her teeth in a smile. There was a jagged scar that ran along the base of her ear to her collarbone.

"What!?" Phil exclaimed.

She ignored him. "You know who I am now, Danny?" She asked with an innocent voice that fooled no one.

Of course I did… but that was impossible. That had been a dream. Nothing more. This girl wasn't real. But I said it anyway. "Kate." It wasn't a question.

She clapped her hands in delight. "You do remember! But," Her face looked saddened. "Why didn't you call me?" She cackled and her face was transformed to something wicked. Something tortured and insane.

"Dan, what's going on?" Phil asked me, completely lost.

"Oh, sweet Phillip still doesn't know what's wrong with him?" Kate used a sickly sweet baby-voice as she sauntered over to Phil.

"Don't touch him!" I cried.

Her eyes flashed and she turned away from him. "I'm not interested in him, Daniel. I've never been interested in  _him._ " She said viciously, a growl building in her throat.

I looked over at Phil. "I had a flashback a while ago. I didn't tell you about it, I didn't want to acknowledge that it was anything more than a dream." I kept my eyes on Kate as she prowled around my bed. "The entire time I was running around like some werewolf, tracking her down and trying to kill her. There was someone after me, and I had betrayed them. I used to be one of them and so did you. We  _both_  betrayed them. I don't know what they were, I only thought of the words brotherhood or order or something like that."

Addressing Kate, I continued. "But I killed you. I caught up with you and ripped your throat open with my claws."

One side of her mouth tilted upwards and she gestured to the scar. "Oh yes, I kept this as a souvenir, but it'll take a lot more than that to kill me, sweetheart."

I turned back to Phil, glancing every so often at Kate. "The end of my dream was like the end of your really crazy one. I saw you in the river, I called your name. And then I got shot in the back." I peered at Kate. "I don't have a scar. Why?"

"We got rid of it. There are ways of removing scars, you know."

"Then why do you still have yours?" I questioned.

"It's a memento, darling. It feels my hatefire. Besides, I never could destroy anything you gave me." Her voice was defeated, as if she had accepted something painful.

"I don't understand." Said Phil, "Dan, why is she after us?"

"Because!" Kate snarled at him. "I love him and he decided to run away with you! You two are pathetic," she spat. "You don't have the strength to do what's necessary when it comes to the brotherhood."

"What exactly is the brotherhood? Why can't we remember?" I asked, trying to draw her fury away from Phil. She turned to me like a dog offered meat, walking toward me almost docilely.

"The brotherhood is an organization that works in the shadows. We are a specific group of people, chosen for our skills and our bonds to the elders. All you really need to know is that we get things done." She walked over to a table and picked up something metal. They slipped on her fingers. I recognized the type of claws that I had used to tear her throat. "These are part of our technology. We're designed to move faster, see farther, hear better. We have surgically enhanced eyes, ears and muscles, and these," she pulled a small piece of machinery out of her ear, "Are what we use to hunt."

She replaced the item and walked over to me. "Now, why don't you remember?" She played her fingers over my neck and I shivered at the cold metal. "Your forgetfulness is my doing. We don't take kindly to rogues, but I appealed to the elders and my wish was granted. Sadly, I had to keep both of you. Anyway, one of the things the brotherhood does is undercover work. But we don't trust just anyone. Our process is very… thorough. We usually replace a person's memories and thoughts and completely download a new personality. When I asked the elders to spare your life… well, we couldn't just leave you in a cage. You'd escape. So we put an old persona of yours into your minds. That's why I needed you both. You'd  _both_  used them for an old mission and they were no longer needed, but they would only work in your bodies. If one of you woke up without the other… well, the persona would not work. You'd be missing an important person from your history. As I said, we're very thorough. Your history is impeccable. We have digital archives of both of you going back for years. We have fake vlogs from both of you. All flawlessly made, if I do say so myself."

She walked over to the door and pulled two boys in.  _Chris and PJ._ "These two have been helping me, they're part of your back story, but they work for me. My agents will be keeping an eye on you as the process begins."

"Process? What process?" Phil demanded.

"Tut tut, Phillip, haven't you been listening?" She walked over and smacked him sharply across the face. "Shut up, I'm talking."

"Phil!" I yelled, he only whimpered. A handprint stood out against his pale flesh.

"Silence! As I was saying: The process of memory transfer is long and complicated. Any participants must be kept asleep the entire time, or only a percentage of the false memory will push your real memory out. As you may be able to guess, your transmissions stopped part of the way through. You had mostly your new personalities, but there were bits and pieces of your old lives that came to you. And the obvious flaw of your memory not being active exactly when you woke up. So over the next two or three days, Chris will be watching you, Phillip. PJ will be watching Daniel. I need to be running the machines, or I'd watch you myself, sweetheart. You'll each be moved to your separate rooms so when you awake it will be in an environment you know."

Kate flitted to a small tablet which she picked up and turned on. The pale light illuminated the perfection of her skin. Which reminded me of the imperfection of my own.

"So what's with the scars?" I asked her defiantly.

"Oh!" Her laugh tinkled in the most grating way possible. "I thought that was a nice touch. Just to punish you more, I added a little more self loathing to your persona. The cuts were made by yours truly, of course. They look older because of our own technology. You may be alive and I may love you, but that doesn't mean I don't want you to suffer a little bit."

She started tapping away on the device in her hands before looking at Chris and PJ. "I'm adding a new memory here. When they come to they are going to think you two have spent the night. In the morning they will expect to make a video or two for your channels. Come up with something and so will I."

As she set the machine down, she stepped over to Phil and grabbed an injector from a table. "Goodnight Phillip. Sweet dreams." Laughing maliciously, she jabbed him in the arm. His eyes drooped immediately and his arms went slack.

She waltzed over to me and I tried to struggle. "Don't even try, it won't help you." She said, with an evil glint in her eyes. "I've won."

She leaned over and kissed me as she plunged the needle into a vein in my arm. Her lips traveled to my ear. "Checkmate."

As she pulled back, I noticed the gleam in her eyes was gone. There had been a gleam in them when I saw her in the dream, but it was no longer.

"There's truly no light in your eyes." I whispered hoarsely.

Her fallen expression was the last thing I saw before the room went black.


	10. Chapter 10

When Dan woke up he felt completely refreshed. For some reason he'd had a really great sleep, unlike the usual freaky-dream induced insomnia he often suffered from. He tried to remember what he had done last night that allowed this unusual occurrence. Then he remembered the night out with Chris, PJ, and Phil. They had gone out to a local pub, had dinner and gotten a little buzzed. Dan could even remember them deciding not to get a cab, which resulted in the tipsy walk home.

He smiled, thinking of PJ and Phil talking about Pokémon a little too loudly and his own conversation about Guild Wars with Chris. That had gotten home, decided that PJ and Chris should spend the night, and promptly crashed into their corresponding beds and bedrolls and fell asleep.

 _Probably the fastest I've fallen asleep since moving to the new place._ Dan thought as he got out of bed.  _Sad that it can't be like that every night._

He moved to his dresser, quickly stripped out of his night clothes and put on clean jeans and a Danosaur t-shirt. Then he walked into the bathroom and began straightening his hair. He really did wish that the stupid curls would just stay out of his hair.  _Stupid unnecessary fuckwads._

Dan padded into the living room, dead set on getting some coffee and toast. When he entered the living room he saw PJ, Chris, and Phil sitting on the carpet and talking animatedly about Sonic. Phil was turning the TV on so they could play while Chris went on about the levels he thought were hardest.

"Hey, look who's finally among the world of the living!" said PJ.

"Yeah, took you long enough," Phil commented. "I think you were drunk last night."

"I wasn't drunk, I was tipsy. Just like you lot." I retorted good naturedly.

"Right; if he had been drunk, a lot more would have happened last night." Chris added.

They all laughed as Chris made a face that was probably supposed to be sexy, but really just made him look constipated. Still chuckling, Dan walked into the kitchen. Noticing the dishes in the sink, he didn't offer anyone breakfast. He simply got his own and sat down at the kitchen table in a chair that allowed him to watch the others play video games.

"What do we have planned today?" He said, with a mouthful of toast.

"I brought a twister mat." PJ replied. "I'd like to make a video of us all playing that."

"He means he wants a foursome on the mat." Chris said slyly.

"How about after we make the video?" Dan offered.

They all laughed again.

"Sounds good." Phil said, and then blushed when he realized how that sounded. "I meant about the video."

"Sure you did." Chris teased.

"I also have an idea for a video, one about all the disasters that happen around Christmas." Dan said, eying the evergreen tree like it was an enemy. "Do you know how many people die or get injured because of trees?"

"Probably a lot." PJ thought aloud.

As Dan finished his toast and coffee, he began scripting the video in his mind. "I'm going to start on my video, just so you know. I'll let you know if I start the filming."

He walked into his room and closed the door. He turned on the fairy lights that were taped to his bed frame and pulled the picture of a nyan cat out from behind his bedside table. He positioned on top of the night stand so it was facing the camera. After a second of deliberation he put on a green and red Christmas jumper. He called out the door that he was starting, hoping that his friends wouldn't decide to yell and ruin his takes. Then he sat down in his rolling chair, pulled himself up to his camera and pressed on.

"Hey internet!" He clapped his hands together. "So, it's Christmas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know the epilogue is short, but this is all that needed to be said. If you'd like to yell at me for implying that Dan and Phil are the creations of an assassin society… well… you can. I won't stop you… but come on! Isn't it cool to think that everything you know about them is wrong? No? Oh well.


End file.
